


Intersection

by prairiecrow



Series: Geometry [5]
Category: Knight Rider (1982), Torchwood
Genre: Against His Better Judgement, But Tosh Approves, Fascination, First Time, Gwen Has Jack's Best Interests At Heart, Ianto Jones Is No Fool, Illicit Attraction, It's Not Flirting, Jack Does Not Appreciate The Concern, KITT Has Never Stopped Adoring Michael Knight, Light Bondage, Light Dom/sub, M/M, Or Is It?, Owen Thinks Jack is a Complete Idiot, Pheromones, Pre-Slash, SCIENCE!, Sociological Studies in Nightclubs, The Torchwood Team Is As Gossipy As a Bunch of Grandmothers, nightclubs
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-12-26
Updated: 2014-01-19
Packaged: 2018-01-06 06:13:15
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 7
Words: 13,150
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1103363
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/prairiecrow/pseuds/prairiecrow
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>KITT wants to collect new data for his sociological analysis of human mating behaviours. Who better to act as advisor when he makes the rounds of various nightclubs to study the human animal in its natural habitat than Jack Harkness, the most experienced person imaginable when it comes to sexuality in so many forms? But Jack, for all his good intentions to conduct things on a professional level, might find it harder to keep his head than he'd initially anticipated — in fact, the situation might well turn out to be absolutely explosive.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. KITT Requests a Favour

The night everything finally came apart for Jack, inside and out, actually began twenty-six hours before, when he heard a light knock on the frame of his office entryway — one tap, then two, then one — whose rhythm he instantly recognized. He looked up from the mission reports he was reviewing, and sure enough there was KITT, leaning his blond head round the corner just enough to catch his team leader's eye with one dark eyebrow raised in question. "Captain Harkness? Do you happen to have a moment?"

Jack flashed a welcoming smile, and it was genuine: he was always happy to see KITT for obvious reasons having to do with the android's pheromonal output and his own highly pleasurable sensitivity to its chemical aura, but in the past one hundred and sixteen days he'd discovered all sorts of other reasons to enjoy its company. "For you? My door's always open, KITT, you know that."

"That's not saying much," KITT observed, stepping into the open, "considering that I've never actually seen you close it."

He shrugged and set aside his pen, occupying himself with straightening the scattered papers in front of him while actually watching the android approach his desk. It was clad in its habitual "on duty" uniform of black form-fitting double breasted casual suit jacket, expensive charcoal turtleneck, slim fit black pants and gleaming ebony ankle boots, creating a vaguely futuristic military effect although it wore no insignia whatsoever. Even in purely professional mode there was something feline in the way it moved, an effortless perfectly oiled grace that made Jack's mouth go temporarily dry, then start to water. "True — but I'm guessing you didn't come here just to criticize my lack of security. What's on your mind?"

One of the things time had taught him was that that KITT had a tendency not to beat around the bush: he prided himself on never stating the obvious, but seemed to feel that collating and summarizing information was part of his function — and while he had various verbal tricks for making the delivery interesting, he didn't pull any punches. Therefore the last thing Jack expected was hesitation, or a twitch of those slender shoulders that was almost a nervous fidget when KITT came round to stand squarely in front of his desk at a distance of precisely one metre, hands clasped behind his back while he stood at parade attention with his gaze fixed on a point just above and beyond his team leader's right ear. He certainly didn't expect the slight inhalation, or the quickening of the cycles of red in those narrowed eyes and the brighter flare of blue along his jawline — or the silence that stretched on for two full seconds, until he felt compelled to ask: "Is something wrong?" 

"Well, no," KITT admitted, still not quite looking at him, "not precisely. Only… I don't wish to impose." 

"You can't impose if you don't ask in the first place," Jack prompted, leaning forward a little to clasp his hands on the desk in front of him and starting to feel unaccountably nervous himself. KITT had that effect on him sometimes, as if vibrations in the construct's depths were able to set his own depths vibrating. It was a disquieting phenomenon he still hadn't found an effective workaround for. "So…?"

He was pretty sure he couldn't get any more surprised, until KITT met his gaze directly, drew back his shoulders even more as if bracing himself for retaliation, and stated: "Captain, I'd like to go out on the town, and I'd appreciate it if you'd see fit to accompany me."

What… _what_. "Out?" he asked blankly. "You mean… outside the Hub?"

This time the quirk of the android's eyebrow was skeptical. "Is there another definition for 'outside' in this context that I should be aware of?"

He cocked his head, both puzzled and wary. "And by 'on the town', you mean…?"

"To the bars, the restaurants, the nightclubs," KITT specified: "In short, wherever human beings congregate for the purposes of meeting and seducing potential mates." 

Jack's mind was racing, but not gaining any traction. "And you want to do this… why?"

A refined shrug and a crisply matter-of-fact tone: "I've always found human mating rituals to be both curious and puzzling. Since I lacked all sexual drive myself, I had no way of decoding the motivations behind the various strategies they employed in search of —"

Jack spotted the opening, and pounced in spite of all his best resolutions. "You said 'lacked'."

"Yes. And?"

He could feel his own internal temperature rising. Not good, definitely ill-advised, but — "So… that's changed."

KITT's trace of a smile was sardonic. "A lot of things have changed, in case you hadn't noticed."

 _Lately?_ Jack wanted to press. _When it comes to humanity in general, or to sexuality in particular, or —_ He cut that line of thought off at the pass, before it could set off more dangerous trains of association. "And you want to go out to… observe the human animal in its natural habitat. Right?"

The android nodded, as if it were pleased he'd finally gotten the point. "Owen and Gwen aside, there's not much opportunity for that sort of research around here. And since I work with both of them, I need to treat them with a certain degree of circumspection. There are obvious limits to the types of investigations I can carry out."

"Ah." It made sense, of course it did, KITT was as curious as a cat at the best of times, always hungry for new and better data. But Jack couldn't help noticing: "Aren't you forgetting somebody?" 

"I haven't, actually," KITT replied evenly. "Your own relationship with Ianto appears to be fairly straightforward. I've been compiling data on the two of you ever since I arrived, and I feel satisfied that I understand your pair bond sufficiently. That's why I'd find a set of new observations tremendously useful."

"Yeah, I get that, but…" It was vitally important to be crystal clear about the parameters for what KITT was asking. "What do you expect _me_ to do, exactly?"

This time the smile was friendly, almost coaxing. "I was hoping you would accompany me to provide both material examples of mating strategies and commentary on what I observe." He said it as if making the rounds of Cardiff's bars and clubs to conduct a sociological study of human hook-ups was the height of common sense and normalcy. "I've spoken to the rest of the team, and everybody agreed that you're the person who knows the most about human mating rituals and sexuality."

He shouldn't let himself be coaxed. He really shouldn't. Even a second's worth of consideration revealed about ten different ways this kind of outing could blow up in his face. Still… KITT, gorgeously dressed, close by his side in the dramatic throbbing darkness… a quiet corner all to themselves… watching couples twine around each other in the dance of seduction, his lips close to the shell of that perfect ear, warming it with his breath, talking about sex —

 _No._ Much too intimate, way too close, his cock was already sitting up and taking notice in his pants, and if he was lucky he might even get to lay his hand on KITT's back and feel the subliminal power so masterfully contained within that artificial body humming through his fingers, so near that if he leaned in just a half an inch further he could stroke it with his tongue…

He leaned back in his chair, careful to keep his groin out of sight beneath the edge of the desk, and studied the neatly composed figure in front of him. "They said that, did they?"

KITT nodded. "It was Gwen who suggested it first, but yes, they all concurred."

"Well…" He couldn't resist a cocky grin of his own. "They're absolutely right."

"Does that mean you're willing to take me out?" He was so openly hopeful now, blue light awakening and flowing from the outer corners of his eyes in response, so manifestly eager that Jack's attempts to deliberately harden his heart melted instantly. 

"How's tomorrow night sound?" The words were out before he had time to line up a list of all the reasons why they were such a spectacularly bad idea. "It's Saturday, the clubs should be hopping, and they're always happy to let me in." 

KITT was studying him in turn, the lingering trace of his smile self-satisfied — even fond. "Because you lend a certain cachet to the place, I suppose."

"Among other things." He'd just cast himself headlong into a plunge toward disaster, but all he wanted to do was laugh, to leap up and pump his fist in the air and shout, to do a victory dance around his office. He managed to confine his jubilation to a wider grin and a wink. "Just wait until you see me dance!"

"That sounds… extremely promising." He stepped out of parade rest and offered a courtly bow of his chin. "Thank you, Captain. I appreciate your willingness to assist me." 

"Anytime," Jack called after his retreating back. He was pretty sure that when the euphoria wore off he was going to dearly regret this, but for now… 

… for now he felt like he was on top of the world.

In the doorway, the android paused and rested its graceful hand on the frame, glancing back over one slim shoulder. "Oh, and do you have any suggestions for what I should wear?"

Jack mentally ran through KITT's collection of clothes — for a creature with no life outside of Torchwood, he seemed to enjoy looking thoroughly stylish. "How about that silk shirt of yours — the burgundy one you had on last Tuesday? The pants and boots you're wearing right now would be just fine, plus the light leather jacket and matching pair of gloves — and the wrap-around sunglasses, of course."

"I very much doubt that any of those items will conceal my essential nature," KITT sniffed. Which was a point: there was scarcely a handspan of his body that didn't bear inscriptions of blue light, and once he got sufficiently worked up those would start luminescing beyond his ability to easily control. In the shadows of your typical club he'd constitute his own beautiful light show, impossible to ignore —

— which was another damned good reason not to take him anywhere near that kind of venue, into an atmosphere already charged with human pheromones and sexual heat. A much saner course of action would be to lock him in the Hub and only let him out on team missions… 

… but he wanted this, so much. It was so clear. And Jack, although he managed to harden his heart on a regular basis, just couldn't bring himself to deny him something that was so easy to grant.

"The well-tailored, buttoned up look suits you," Jack told him, and permitted himself a smile nothing less than openly suggestive. "Besides, the ladies love a man of mystery, and the more of you that's covered up, the more interested they'll be in finding out what you're hiding." 

"You're assuming that I'm looking for a sexual encounter myself," KITT observed dryly. "With a female, no less."

"Are you?" Jack countered.

This time both eyebrows shot skyward, openly incredulous. "Do I strike you as the sort who'd be interested in bedding someone casually? Considering that I've never bedded anybody before, ever?"

Jack let the silence stretch out for a couple of beats, meeting KITT's challenging gaze with one of his own. "You tell me."

This incline of his chin was thoughtful. "I thought humans placed a certain importance on the losing of one's virginity, and believed that it should happen with someone significant to the individual in question."

"You're not human," Jack felt compelled to point out. "So all bets are off, right?"

KITT's smile, accompanied by a tilt of his head signifying concession, was something close to rueful. "Let's just say that I intend to be… discerning, in the event the opportunity arises. Goodnight, Captain — and once again, thank you."

And then he was gone, leaving Jack to deal with the persistent problem hidden under his desk — and to try very hard not to think about the undercurrents he'd thought he detected in the conversation they'd just had. 

After all, it wasn't like he could ever afford to let himself act on them, even if he _was_ crazy enough to risk a dance with the Devil by the pale moonlight. 


	2. Ianto Asks Some Pointed Questions

For an organization supposedly conducting top secret covert ops, Torchwood certainly had a shitty track record when it came to internal secrecy: Jack's team was, in fact, as gossipy as a bunch of Italian grandmothers, so he wasn't particularly surprised when Ianto came right out and asked, without preamble:

"You're not planning on taking him to that leather club on Bordass, are you?"

They were alone together in the kitchen — Jack had come in to idly scrounge for Chinese leftovers in the refrigerator, and Ianto was just finishing up hand-washing a small collection of mugs from that morning's meeting. Jack shrugged and, having discovered that someone (probably Owen) had scarfed up the last of the lemon chicken he'd been looking for, snatched a small plastic bottle of chocolate milk instead before strolling over to settle his ass against the edge of the counter to his archivist's left. "Hey, the Kaldouran ambassador liked it just fine!"

"Yes," Ianto rejoined, turning off the water and reaching for a dish towel, "and he couldn't walk straight for a week afterwards. His four wives were ready to cut your head off — both of them."

Jack grinned fondly at the memory of that fine strapping fellow from Kaldour IV writhing and moaning ecstatically in a leather sling, then shrugged again and sipped his milk. "Something tells me KITT is made of sterner stuff." Catching Ianto's glare, he concealed his impatience (and yes, to be fair, the way his hackles bristled at the attempted interference) with a milder smile suggesting that he was being completely forthright. "Oh, get that disapproving look off your face — I'll take him to the Kit-Kat Club, and the Ravensmore, and only then, maybe, if he brings it up first —"

Ianto looked down at the cup he was drying, making sure he rubbed the terry cloth over every square centimetre of its inner surface. "Are you really sure this is a good idea?"

Jack knew that attitude: typical _I'm being obsessively neat in small ways because I'm actually very worried about the larger picture_ displacement behaviour… and really, the young Welshman looked so appealing with his jacket off and his shirt sleeves rolled up, revealing the soft whiteness of his inner forearms in a way that made Jack want to lean over and press ardent kisses to the sensitive skin usually so primly concealed. At the same time the bristling became a growl in his core, a thought of _Mine!_ so intense that it momentarily dimmed his vision like heat shimmer off of asphalt — and this time the man in front of him definitely wasn't the focus. 

"What, you think I should send him out there by himself?" He spoke lightly, with a skill at concealing his true feelings honed by over twenty-one decades of practice.

And Ianto, who in some ways knew him better than anyone, slid a sidelong glance in his direction that suggested the performance hadn't been entirely convincing. "No, only think of all the drinks you're going to have to slip Retcon into before the night is through."

It was a valid point, which only made Jack's irritation worse. "He's already been written up in the local papers," he countered, "with some pretty decent photos, I might add. The public might not know _what_ he is exactly, but they know he exists." He knew the deep simmer of anger trying to turn his reasonable tone into a snarl was a bad sign, an indication that KITT's pheromonal lure was exerting even more of an effect on him than usual, but still —

_One night on the town. One night for just the two of us. A chance to be with him for a few hours without any distractions, to just watch him and laugh with him and drink him in at his most witty and beautiful… damn it, after four months of denying myself everything I wanted, don't I deserve at least that much? It's not like I plan on kissing him or anything stupid like that…_

"Besides," he continued smoothly as that internal struggle played itself out, "after all those Kaldouran feathers and scales a guy who glows in the dark won't even rate a second look."

Ianto finished drying the cup and set it aside, picking up another one and wiping down the outside before looking up again. "Jack — be careful." 

This time his smirk was more genuinely cavalier. "You're talking to me as if I haven't played wingman a million times before."

Ianto's unblinking gaze was a clear challenge. "And that's all this is?"

"That's all this is," Jack said firmly (because that was all it _could_ be, after all), then sweetened the pot with his most charming smile. "C'mon, Ianto, admit it — if this works out you'll be just as happy to get him out of the Hub occasionally, so you and I can…" A suggestive waggle of his eyebrows. "… without the danger of having him walk in on us."

"Which never bothers you," Ianto accused, finishing off the cup in his hand with two deft passes of the towel over and through its handle that reminded Jack, poignantly, just how skillful those long-fingered hands could be under the right circumstances. Most of the time that would have been enough provocation to lean over and cop a sly feel of Ianto's pert left buttock, but he was still feeling pissy enough that instead he shrugged a third time and drank off half the remaining milk at one pull. 

"Nope," he declared when he came up for air, "not particularly. But I know it puts a damper on _your_ mood, and I want you to feel as comfortable and as free to drop your pants for me as possible."

Ianto rolled his eyes as he opened the cupboard to start putting away the freshly dried mugs. "Well, as long as _that's_ all it is…"

Jack held his tongue. He knew Ianto — and Ianto knew him, at least well enough to suspect that something was going on, even if he didn't grasp the exact shape of it. Jack was confident that he'd been able to maintain the facade of friendly and professional leader when dealing with KITT in front of the team, and that the kiss he'd pressed to the android's lips following its regeneration after the Vore incident hadn't been caught on CCTV, and yet…

Well, Ianto had been under him, at least once, when at the moment of climax he'd started to gasp a name that definitely did _not_ start with the "Y" consonant. He'd managed to change it to a suitable generic exclamation — " _Coming!_ " on one occasion, he didn't exactly remember what he'd done during the others — but Ianto Jones was no fool. He knew how to listen and he knew how to put facts together, and it was times like this that Jack rued his own taste for brains as well as beauty in his longer-term liaisons.

And then there was Gwen, who'd seen him weeping openly over KITT's remains. There was Owen, who knew exactly what the android's pheromones were doing to him and who gave him a weekly shot to keep the effects under some kind of control. And as for Tosh, she was part of the Italian Grandmothers Brigade as well, wasn't she?

The possibility certainly existed that the only person in the Hub who didn't know what was going on was KITT himself — and Jack was damned sure he didn't suspect a thing, because if he did he'd be in Jack's face about it, demanding answers and explanations. Everybody else around here might be a subtle as serpents, but to the A.I. honesty was practically a God: it wouldn't tolerate obfuscation for a second, and that unflinching dedication to the truth was unfortunately part of what Jack found most admirable about it. On most people candour looked awkward at best and pretentious at worst, but in that respect KITT was as unfailingly elegant as —

"Jack?" The little frown in Ianto's voice drew him back to reality with a start. "Are you even listening to me?"

"Hm?" With an effort he shook off the dreamy haze of infatuated contemplation and met Ianto's gaze with a small smile of apology. "Sorry. Just thinking about those requisition reports you've been bugging me to get finished for the past two weeks." He drained the last of the chocolate milk and straightened from his comfortable slouch, tossing the empty container into the garbage bin across the room in one easy arc. "I've been putting them off long enough. I guess I oughtta—"

"Jack," Ianto repeated, and the manifest worry in his voice brought Jack to a halt halfway to the door. "Maybe you should get an extra —?"

He waited a beat, feeling the young man's gaze practically burning a hole between his shoulder blades, before turning to scowl a question. "Get an extra what, exactly?" 

But Ianto only shook his head and turned back to the sink. "Never mind," he said in a low voice, and Jack took the opportunity to get while the getting was good.

But — damn it! Now he'd actually have to deal with the reports in question… and get them finished in good time too, because there was no way in Hell he was going to be late for tonight's event. KITT was going to be ready for eight o'clock and Jack had a full evening planned, even if that evening wasn't going to end up going the way he would have wanted it to in a just and benevolent Universe.


	3. Gwen is the Voice of Reason

Two hours later, Jack was up to his elbows in those damned requisition reports — rechecking his figures and knowing, just _knowing_ that Ianto would manage to find at least one arithmetical error no matter how hard he tried — when a cheerful voice interrupted him from the vicinity of his office doorway: "So… I hear you're going out tonight!"

Jack looked up, glad for the excuse to rest his eyes on something beautiful leaning against the door frame with a cup of coffee in her hand, and flashed a welcoming smile in response to the sweet curve of Gwen's lips. "Maybe, if I ever get these reports done. Don't suppose I could convince you to —?"

But Gwen was already shaking her head emphatically. "Oh, no! I helped you out with them once — never again, thank you very much!"

He put on his best pout. "You make it sound like it was — oh, I don't know, mind-numbingly boring or something."

Still smiling slightly, she pushed away from the door frame and sauntered toward his desk, cradling her mug in both hands. "Why don't you get Tosh to help you?"

A shake of his head. "Can't. She's hip-deep in analyzing that rod and orb combo we picked up two days ago."

"And Owen's helping her?"

"That he is." He cast a wistful glance at the coffee cup and held out his hand, then whined when she widened her eyes at him and cradled it protectively close to her chest: "C'mon, I finished mine three quarters of an hour ago and Ianto's missing in action!"

This time her smile was indulgent. "Fine…" She passed the cup across the desk, chiding him as he drank off half of it in two greedy swallows: "So don't try to say I never do anything for you." 

"Gwen," he announced when he'd slaked the worst of his thirst, "you are a princess — no, you are the reigning queen of generosity! I'll be in your debt for years to come!" Holding her gaze, he rested both elbows on his desk and leaned forward to unleash his most charming smile. "Now, if you could just see your way clear to giving me a hand with —"

"Jaaaack." He knew that warning drawl even if it was accompanied by a sparkle in her dark eyes, and he settled back in his chair, shaking his head in mournful defeat. "Y'know, you could always ask KITT instead — he's a genius with numbers, and I'm pretty sure he's just on the Internet, doing some research."

Jack knew full well what that meant: the android wasn't at a computer station typing in commands, but was instead someplace where he could sit or lie undisturbed with those uncanny eyes closed while his electronic mind accessed the World Wide Web directly. "He is, is he?" 

She nodded earnestly. "He'd likely jump at the chance to help." 

If two hundred or so years of adult life had taught Jack anything, it was how to smell a covert agenda. "He might," he replied with studied indifference, "but who says I want him involved?"

Gwen glanced briefly away, as if thinking for a moment, and Jack had to give her full points for playing the 'innocent' act to the hilt — until she looked at him as if experiencing a personal revelation and exclaimed: "Oh! Maybe because… it would give you something to talk about tonight if things get slow at the clubs?" 

Jack let himself smile with a trace of genuine heat as he put aside the coffee and picked up his pen again, because the rest might suspect the depth of his attraction to the android in question, but he was pretty damned sure that Gwen _knew_. "Believe me," he purred, "we'll have _plenty_ to talk about. You try cramming a crash course on human sexuality and mating rituals into five or six hours and see how much dead air you end up with!"

"Don't suppose you need a wingman?" When he glanced up sharply, she shrugged as if in apology. "Wing-woman, then." 

He tilted his head suspiciously. "Why? Are you volunteering?"

She met his unblinking gaze warily — as well she might, considering the ground she was treading on. "Might be." 

"I thought you had a dinner date with Rhys tonight," Jack stated, and it wasn't a question.

"I could always cancel —"

So that was it. He wasn't sure which annoyed him more — the implication that he needed a chaperone, or the prospect of how much a chaperone would crimp his style 

_and glare with disapproval whenever he leaned too close, spoke too intimately, drew surreptitious sips of intoxicating scent, touched furtively_

— but he knew this was going to end right now. "Gwen, this isn't a work outing, and I don't need anybody telling me —" An incredulous bark of laughter. "— _me_ , of all people! — how to —" 

Damn those wide appealing eyes! "I only thought —"

"You didn't 'think' at all." And oh, he loved her in ways that flayed his heart wide open, but she'd come too close to something jealously guarded and he didn't try to hide the glare of the Nemian dragon she'd awakened in his core, hissing and flaring. "I know exactly what I'm doing, and your concern? Is. _Not_. Appreciated."

She met that glare with unflinching determination: no mean feat when faced with the displeasure of Jack Harkness, the quiet fury that had been known to make seasoned warriors break and run for cover. "We're worried about you, Jack."

"We?" His eyebrows shot skyward. " _We?_ "

"He's dangerous." When Jack levelled a glare even more disbelieving, she specified: "He doesn't _want_ to hurt us, but we still don't know what he was created to do, exactly. It could be he was sent here to target us — or maybe even you, specifically."

Jack shook his head, laughing without a trace of humour. "He's been alone with me — how many times now? He's never so much as singed a hair on any of us —"

_Although he did kiss me, didn't he? Okay, granted, I grabbed him and kissed him first, but when he got over the shock he wasn't exactly in a hurry to push me away, gave as good as he got in fact —_

"— and you're trying to tell me he's some kind of sleeper agent assassin, just biding his time?"

She looked genuinely sorry to be saying it, but she clearly felt she had to: "He could go berserk. Think how many people he could kill, if he started firing in a crowded club!" 

Jack put his pen aside. He laid both hands flat to the top of his desk and rose to his feet: unhurried, but with the barely contained force of a cresting tidal wave. He saw the impact of it register in her face, although she held her ground as he spoke evenly: "So what are you telling me? That we should lock him up until we need him, and even then only let him out just long enough to serve our purposes? That we should treat him like a prisoner after everything he's done for us?"

And dear Goddess, was that _pity_ in her eyes? "I'm only saying that there's a lot we don't know about him."

Jack glanced briefly away as he laughed again, low and bitter, before meeting her gaze in naked challenge. "There's a lot you don't know about me either, and at least he's got the excuse that he genuinely doesn't remember." 

Gwen gazed back with unwavering determination. "I'm also saying that you may not be thinking very clearly right now. I know how you feel about him — or how you felt, anyway, when you thought he'd died. I'm just saying…"

He stared her down, daring her to continue. And being Gwen Cooper, so lovely and compassionate and brave, she said what she felt she had to say for his own good: "You need to be careful. _You can't go too far._ "

"Oh, I know exactly how far I intend to go." Each word was softly spoken, yet vibrant with menace. "And even if I didn't, it wouldn't be anybody's business but my own — and his. Now, is that completely clear?"

A slow nod. "Perfectly."

He sat back down, settled himself in his chair, and turned his full attention back to his paperwork. "Dismissed." 

"Jack…" 

He'd intended to freeze out any further attempt at conversation, but that note in her voice… the plea… he couldn't hear it and not answer. He glanced up again to find her regarding him almost sadly. "Just — be sure to take precautions, will you? _Every_ precaution."

He opened his mouth to respond

 _If you think I'm taking an extra dose of suppressants, no, uh-uh,_ **_not_ ** _going to happen_

then closed it sharply, because there was still a chance she didn't know and he'd be damned if she had the right to that part of himself, on top of everything else of his she owned. Instead he said curtly: "Not a word of this conversation to anybody. _No one._ And if I find out you've gone behind my back to KITT, _you'll_ find out just how unpleasant I can make your life around here. Clear?"

She nodded stiffly. "Yes, _sir._ "

"Thanks for the coffee," he said, and threw himself back into wrangling his sums. 

Gwen left without another word, for which fact he was profoundly grateful: he was already starting to feel pretty damned guilty about using his rank against her — _her!_ — but… 

She'd been right. About all of it. In particular, he knew that an additional suppressant shot would be only sensible under the circumstances he was setting himself up for.

He also knew that at this point, nearly four months into a never-ending struggle against the deepest impulses of artificially stimulated instinct...  four months of burning, hungering, aching, thirsting in nearly every possible dimension...

After a few seconds' wrestling with the latest column of numbers, he dropped his pen and sunk his face into both hands, wincing as he released a long slow exhalation that left him drained of everything except lingering unease.

He was dead exhausted, and he'd seldom felt less like being sensible in his entire life.


	4. Owen is Refused

When Jack emerged from a shower stall in the Hub's white-tiled fresher complex at 7:42 PM, stark naked and dripping wet, the last thing he expected to see was his team's medic waiting for him less than ten feet away, clad in a long white lab coat and wearing an expression of stern disapproval. "Owen, what the hell —?" 

Owen held up a familiar object in his right hand. "Turn around and bend over." 

And Jack, who'd been starting to turn away to snatch a dry towel off the warming shelf, stopped in his tracks and realigned his body to face the physician directly, regarding the hypospray with the suspicion it deserved. "So you can…?" 

"Just turn around," Owen ordered in his best _I'm not fucking kidding around, Jack!_ voice. 

Which had never impressed Jack at the best of times, and wasn't about to start doing so now, when he could actually taste a surge of adrenaline and testosterone tingling on his tongue. "If that's an extra dose of suppressant —" 

"'Early'," Owen corrected, "not 'extra'." 

The urge to attack, to defend his territory — _This night is_ ** _mine_** _, I_ ** _deserve_** _this, I'm going to have this time with him come Hell or high water_ — pounded in Jack's veins: zero to sixty in less than three seconds, and he knew that response itself was a sign the suppressant was desperately needed. Nevertheless he stood his ground, levelling a glare that had made bigger and better men than Owen Harper head for the hills. "Still not interested." 

But Jack hadn't chosen his team members for their docility, and Owen was nothing if not a scrapper. He even dared to take a step forward, still brandishing the hypospray. "If you think I'm letting you go out tonight, with _him_ , without adequate —" 

Primal instinct moved Jack into a combat ready posture: feet set apart, shoulders squared, fists clenching, chin dipping toward his chest like a bull about to charge as he growled: "Owen, you do _not_ want to get into a naked wrestling match with me. Trust me on that one." 

Which provoked only a dramatic shudder. "Damned straight! I know where you've been." 

"Good." Awareness of what he must look like abruptly pierced the red haze of Jack's aggression — too much, too _clear_ , the fire at his core exposed — so he forced himself to stand down and turn away to retrieve a large towel from the rack, ready to whirl round and strike if Owen was actually stupid enough to try a rear attack. 

The smaller man, however, stayed put physically, using words as weapons instead: "And I know where you plan on being later, so stop acting like a  —" 

"This isn't open to negotiation," Jack snapped, wrapping the towel around his waist and tucking in the end to hold it firm, "much less some pathetic attempt at —" 

"At what?" He was making no effort to hide either his incredulity or his contempt. "At saving you from yourself?" 

The animal that had awakened in Jack's core — it felt like the same dragon Gwen had roused less than three hours earlier — hissed and writhed with a nearly overwhelming passion to smite this troublesome insect to smoking ashes. Instead Jack settled for snatching up a smaller towel to rub briskly over his soaked hair, speaking through its folds: "And what, exactly, do you think is going to happen tonight?" 

A shrug that Jack didn't have to see to know it had occurred. "You go out for drinks, maybe a bit of dancing, and you wind up screwing the Cuttlefish."

"Wrong!" He draped the smaller towel round his neck and turned to fix Owen with a gaze that revealed far less of the dragon and much more amusement. "We go out for drinks, I help him figure out how human beings do the mating dance, he takes a lot of notes, and we come back here in one piece." He did, however, permit a flash of very sharp teeth to penetrate his smile. "Period. End of sentence." 

A skeptical upward quirk of both eyebrows. "So, you have absolutely no plans to get him into a dark corner and offer a more practical demonstration of the finer points of seduction?" 

A laugh that was more than half-growl. "If I did, it still wouldn't be any of your business."

Owen shook his head, holding Jack's gaze. "Wrong answer! As this team's doctor, I have a vested interest in —" 

"What are we waiting for, Owen?" He found himself taking a half-step forward, a softer note of urgency infusing his voice as he tried a different tack: persuasion. "How long _is_ it going to be, before we start trusting him?" 

Owen glanced away with narrowed eyes, as if seriously considering the question. "Let me think… a futuristic android that can't remember its own origins, with pheromonal attack capabilities in addition to its talent for sucking the thoughts right out of people's heads or blasting them to atoms with its energy beams?" The return of his gaze to Jack's face was as sharp as a slap. "How about — never?" 

Jack straightened to his full height, feeling the flare of phantom wings from his shoulders and the raising of poisoned hackles along every joint. Nemian dragons were, after all, legendary for their ferocity in protecting their mates. "Well, _I_ trust him —" 

"You would," Owen snorted. "It's got you all neatly wrapped up in its —" 

Fire blazed in Jack's eyes. "And stop calling him 'it'!" 

"Are you listening to yourself, Jack?" Owen was trying to turn that tone of soft persuasiveness against him, emphasized by a slow step closer and the lowering of the hypospray, his arms opening as if in conciliation. "Tell me, honestly, right now: is there anything you wouldn't do for it, if it asked you?" 

"I wouldn't hurt any of you," Jack stated instantly. "I wouldn't betray the secrets in my keeping, and if I saw the slightest sign that he was actually a threat I'd be the first to lock him away. I did it before." And oh, he remembered it with painful clarity: that breathtaking nakedness caged at his orders, and wanting to set it free so badly that the yearning had been a positive ache. But he'd kept KITT imprisoned, to protect the people in his care. "Or have you forgotten that?" 

Owen didn't respond, just looked at him as if considering the next move in their fencing match. Jack, who didn't feel like playing this game anymore, strode past him toward the change rooms without a backward glance. He was at the doorway before Owen fired a parting shot: "But you didn't feel this way about it before — did you?" 

Which stopped Jack in his tracks, because  

_Tonight is mine, tonight is_ **_ours_ ** _, guiding and guarding and teaching him, just the two of us —_

_— so clever, so bright, so beautiful, he'll make me so damned proud, close enough to touch —_

because it was perfectly true. 

"Well?" Owen prompted. 

"I don't have time for this," Jack retorted, and stalked off to the change rooms. If Owen wanted to follow him and try to administer a shot he didn't want — well, Owen might just end up a few broken body parts, and that would hardly be Jack's fault, now would it? 

But Owen didn't follow, and when Jack emerged dry and dressed ten minutes later, the medic was gone.

At the time, Jack was grateful: the dragon purred with satisfaction and curled itself up in his core again, all jewelled scales and barely banked inner fires. 

Later, trapped in the ever-tightening grip of its venomous coils, he'd have plenty of cause to regret his cavalier refusal of the armour his doctor — and yes, arguably his friend — had offered him before he'd set out on his quest, clad only in a fool's bravery and a lover's forbidden desire. 


	5. Tosh Requires an Analysis

If Jack's awareness of KITT had been acute the first time they'd met, it had only grown more finely tuned in the subsequent four months of daily association — and far more intense. Even when they were apart the memory of the android's pheromonal signature wouldn't let Jack be: his hunger for it lingered, seething just beneath his skin like an itch he couldn't scratch, and when they were in the same room together…  

At this point Jack could have been tightly blindfolded and completely deafened, tied to a chair with both hands secured behind his back, and he still would have known the precise instant KITT walked into the Hub because the android had a characteristic stride, light and brisk and agile. He'd have felt its approach through the soles of his booted feet on the floor, while the subtle vibration of its voice would have reached him through the air to thrill along every surface nerve — and he could have only waited, his heart pounding in his chest, for its perfume to wash over him and command him in ways his mind could barely circumvent on his best days. Bound, he would have bowed his proud head and waited in silence, feeling its approach foot by foot, inch by inch, until there was nothing else in the world but that fragrance — encircling his spirit in chains he never wanted to break, enflaming his flesh until the lightest caress of those cool fingers on the heated nape of his neck was its own small ecstasy. 

It would have been a glorious act of surrender — and of course, it was utterly impossible to even contemplate. 

Not that Jack could seem to stop trying. 

Every day Jack fought the good fight, because there were a hundred excellent reasons to resist. And because he was strong, especially with the help of Owen's clever cocktail of drugs, he'd won that fight every day so far. But that didn't make him any less sensitive, and when he bounded up the stairs now and strode onto the main level, dressed to kill with his greatcoat flaring behind him, he knew that KITT wasn't in the immediate vicinity even before he swept his gaze across the room. In fact the main level was deserted except for Owen, who'd taken off his lab coat and was pouring over data at one of the computer stations. 

"They're in the evidence room," Owen drawled, tapping at a keyboard as if he hadn't just been threatening to pump his boss full of an unwanted dose of chemical suppressants. 

Jack's gaze immediately turned toward the room in question, whose blinds were drawn. "Thanks," he nodded, and started in that direction — 

— only to stop dead when the Hub's speaker system cut in at full volume, pumping out a heavy metal beat and Alice Cooper's rasping wail: 

 _I wanna love you but I better not touch (don't touch!)_  
 _I wanna hold you but my senses tell me to stop_  
 _I wanna kiss you but I want it too much (too much!) —_  

He whirled to shoot a glare in Owen's direction that would have killed a bull Algorian mammoth.

"Sorry!" Owen yelled over the storm of sound, and typed at a few more keys, but not in any way that suggested he was in a particular hurry.

_I wanna taste you but your lips are venomous poison_  
 _You're poison running through my veins_  
 _You're poi—_  

Blessed silence fell once more, just as the door to the evidence room swung open and Tosh popped her head out, looking disgruntled. Her suspicious gaze immediately fell on Owen, who shrugged and simply said: "Hit Play in the wrong window. Sorry."

Jack knew differently. Owen had played this game before, during the first weeks after KITT's arrival. He'd seemed to take a sadistic glee in 'accidentally' playing music meant to needle his superior — _Toxic, I've Got You Under My Skin, Addicted To Love_ — and had only stopped when Jack had taken him aside and threatened to punch him through the nearest wall if he pulled that shit one more time. _Okay,_ Owen had muttered, _God, some people have no sense of humour,_ but he'd been smart enough to quit poking the bear — 

— until tonight, apparently, when Jack was in no fit mood to have his temper tested. His hands had already balled into fists when Tosh turned her bright gaze in his direction. "Jack! Come in here, you have got to see this!" 

Owen looked up and smirked at Jack, not in the least apologetic. Jack tore his gaze away, took a deep breath and counted silently to three, forcing his fingers to unclench before nodding to Tosh and getting his feet moving again. "What's up?" 

"It's the rod and the orb," Tosh explained, holding the door so Jack could slip past her into the darkened room, then closing it behind them both. "You know how I was picking up data burst transmissions from them both, using what appeared to be a language related to Dikor-tan? Well, I was right! But when I tried communicating with them, they simply wouldn't respond, not to an outside transmission at any rate. So I thought —" 

"— that KITT would have better luck with a direct connection," Jack concluded, because there KITT stood in the shadows on the far side of the examination table, resting his weight on his left hand as he bent over the two alien artifacts in question. He was elegantly clad in black and burgundy, exactly as Jack had instructed — but the android's ebony leather gloves were off, laid neatly together on the bureau to his left, and his right hand was poised over the orb with thin tendrils of shining cyan extending from his palm, embedded in the softball-sized sphere. Both the orb and KITT were luminescing, the orb in dots of red and purple highlights in its lavish spirals of embedded jewels, KITT in his usual circuit-patterns of clean blue along his fingers and throat and the line of his jaw. The ebbs and flows of light were synchronized, and KITT's eyes were closed, his head tilted a little to his right as if he were listening to a particularly fine piece of music. 

The sight brought such a swell of emotion into Jack's throat — how many times had he dreamed of watching those patterns of light flowing against a pillow, under his hand? — that he kept his mouth shut and just watched, while Tosh continued in a whisper meant for his ears alone: "He's streaming the data it's giving him to the mainframe, so I can examine it in detail later. But the good news is, they're not going to explode." 

Which was enough to get most of Jack's attention. "That's the _good_ news?" 

Tosh nodded, her gaze fixed on the orb. Less than a foot away from it, the rod was also fitfully flashing in yellow and orange. "The bad news is, they were planning to. They're sentient, and they're pair-bonded — and they thought we might have wanted to separate them and perform experiments on them." 

Given how things had been going for himself personally lately, Jack could certainly sympathize with those sentiments. "Any idea what they are yet?" 

"Symbols of royal office," KITT said softly, with a melodic lilt to his dry voice. He bowed his head a little further with a brief flare of brighter light along his jaw that was echoed in the orb and the rod, then withdrew his data extraction tendrils and straightened to his full height again. When his eyes flickered open, their gaze tracked back and forth between the two pieces of alien tech, which were now quiescent. "The rod is the King's… adjutant, I suppose you could call it: its purpose is to network with his cybernetically enhanced cerebral cortex and boost his cognitive abilities. The orb serves a similar function for his Queen."

"While also networking them to each other," Jack guessed, because really, it seemed a pretty obvious way to go. 

KITT nodded. "They're never meant to be more than roughly two kilometres apart from each other, and ideally no more than five metres." 

Tosh was nodding as well, thoughtfully. "And they were at least fifteen metres apart when we picked them up in Centennial Park." 

"Hence their irritability," KITT said crisply. He laid his left hand briefly on the orb, then on the rod, as if gentling a pair of skittish animals, before raising his eyes to Jack's face. "Perfectly understandable, really — we're just lucky they decided to wait and see about us instead of simply blasting us to kingdom come. But I've assured them that we mean them no harm, and that we'll do what we can to return them to their point of origin." 

"Well," Jack remarked, studying the beautifully crafted artifacts with new respect for their capabilities, "at least if we were going to get blown up, it would've been by something pretty."

"It would have been via neutrino burst," KITT corrected, moving to the bureau to retrieve his leather gloves and slip them on again. "Completely invisible except for a microsecond's flash of white light. You'd have never known what hit you." 

"Yeah, well…" Now that they were in the same room together, less than six feet apart, all Jack wanted was for KITT to move in even closer and stay there. Even the way the android put on gloves was mildly mesmerizing, and the thought of getting him out of them afterwards, along with that black leather jacket and that red silk shirt and those stylish-but-certainly-tight-enough-to-be-interesting ebony pants… "Thanks to you, we won't have to worry about that." 

"For today," KITT quipped, and this time there was laughter in his ruby-and-obsidian eyes when he turned his gaze to his team leader — laughter that almost immediately became solemnity. "If you'd rather I stick close to home in case Tosh needs another reading taken, I'd be more than —" 

Which made sense: KITT might be nowhere near as innovative as a human scientist like Tosh, but he was the best when it came to interfacing with alien tech and convincing it to talk. Nevertheless Jack shook his head emphatically. "No," and he levelled a forefinger at the android, " _you_ have a date with sociology, and _I_ haven't had a night out at the clubs in way too long. _We_ are going out," he turned his gaze to the woman on his left, "and Tosh —" 

"I won't disturb you unless something big comes through the Rift," Tosh stated, and even in the room's shadows he couldn't possibly miss the bright glee in her eyes. "Which it won't, according to the Rift calculations. And even if it did…" She leaned a little closer, her smile widening. "I'm pretty sure we could handle it without you." 

Well, it was nice to know that at least one member of Jack's team was on his side. He returned Tosh's conspiratorial smile, then looked up to find KITT regarding them both with a puzzled cant of one finely drawn eyebrow, his _I'm pretty sure I'm missing something here, and I'm about to ask exactly what it is_ expression —

— which Jack forestalled by turning to the door and swinging it open, striding out again while announcing grandly: "Come on, KITT — we're taking the cabriolet tonight!" 

"Ooh, it _is_ a special occasion!" Tosh called after him merrily, or rather after _them_ , because KITT had moved fast to fall in right at Jack's heels. Owen's glower from across the room was openly disapproving, but frankly Jack couldn't have given two fucks about that at the moment: KITT was with him now, _finally_ , close enough to reach out and touch, and even if he couldn't take advantage of that proximity the way he so desperately wanted to it was still enough to set every nerve in his body singing arias of exultation. 

He was going to show KITT what fun really was, and anybody who tried to interfere was going to get their head and their balls handed to them on a silver platter. 

"Don't wait up, kids," he called over his shoulder as he led the way toward the car park. He was pretty sure he heard Tosh giggle, but if Owen had any sour observations to make they were mercifully rendered inaudible by both physical distance and Jack's own profound indifference. 


	6. Jack Gets Tied Up In Knots

Sunset was still a good hour away this late in the month of May, and the day had been both warm and fair. Consequently Jack elected to put the cabriolet's top down, and to take the slightly longer but more scenic North Road route to the target stretch of clubs located on Mary Street. The rewards were immediate: KITT's clear pleasure in the beauty and speed of the car beneath them — Jack had long been aware that of all Torchwood's official vehicles, this sporty red Audi was his favourite — and the way he tipped his head back a little, smiling, to let the wind run ruffling fingers through his short tousle of rich golden hair. His delight at the picturesque evening vista of private boats arrayed in the calm waters of Bute East Dock was almost childlike, an emotional state underscored by the sustained blue glow in the energy channels along his jawline and down his slender throat, leading Jack to the uncomfortable realization that he really hadn't left the Hub for anything other than official business since arriving in Cardiff — and to the resolution that this state of affairs was going to change, starting tonight. 

"Feels good to get out?" he asked casually as they cleared the northern end of the Dock.  

KITT nodded eagerly, craning his neck to take in a last glimpse of the boats rapidly falling away behind them. "Goodness, yes! When I was in California —" He paused to turn back again, his smile remaining almost as bright when directed at Jack. "Michael and I tended to take the coastal roads whenever we could. There's only so much desert one can drive through before it becomes distinctly tedious, but the sea…" He wasn't wearing his dark glasses yet, and when he turned his thoughtful gaze forward out the front windscreen Jack could, with a sidelong glance, clearly see that the circlets of red in his ebony eyes were tracing the slow cycles of accessed memory, while his smile turned wistful. "It was never the same way twice, and I can say that with the absolute confidence of someone possessing eidetic recall. I could almost understand why humans have spent most of their civilized history building boats to explore it…" 

He trailed off with the tiniest frown. Jack, who knew enough by now to recognize when the memory of KITT's lost driver was weighing heavily on that artificial mind, only gave him a couple of seconds before offering a distraction: "But, you never wanted to try it for yourself?" 

A visible twitch of slim shoulders inside that light leather jacket, and a tiny flare of cyan tracing the finer patterns at his temples. "Given that I would have sunk like a stone… thank you, no! Michael managed to coax me aboard a sea-going vessel exactly twice in the course of our entire partnership, and I'm sorry to say I fought him the whole way both times."

Jack had to smile at the image: he knew from personal experience just how difficult KITT could be when he got the bit in his teeth while he was wearing a human-sized body, and if a fifteen hundred-odd kilogram car decided it wasn't going somewhere… "So how'd he convince you?" 

"By appealing to my vanity," KITT admitted. 

Jack snorted. "Figures." 

The glance KITT sent his way conveyed not-so-mild reproof. "And what's _that_ supposed to mean?"

"Nothing," Jack grinned as he slowed dramatically in preparation to merge into the eastbound traffic on Adam Street. "Just that…" Now that they weren't travelling at top speed a cross-breeze could cut through the car's open interior from left to right — and did, carrying a small but deliciously potent hit of KITT's pheromonal output to Jack's nose. That simple inhalation woke him up like nothing else could: suddenly every square centimetre of his skin was tingling, his vision was clearer and the blood was rushing hotter in his veins, and when he succumbed to the compulsion to glance to his left, at the android which was looking at him with pointed expectancy… 

 _This was a mistake,_ a clear voice of sanity whispered in his forebrain. _A_ ** _huge_** _mistake, and if you're smart you'll turn this car around and get him back to the Hub so damned fast it'll make his pretty head spin —_  

The voice was absolutely right. Jack agreed with it wholeheartedly for an entire half-second, until KITT raised his right eyebrow in a silent sardonic _Well?_ gesture and Jack's heart abandoned sanity's orbit completely. All he wanted to do was reach out his left hand and curve it around the line of KITT's jaw, to stroke that angular cheekbone with his thumb and watch the flow of awakening power under his touch, to see those inhuman eyes widen as his thumb dipped lower to trace that silken lower lip just before he leaned into their magnetic field of attraction and finally tasted — 

A strident blast of car horn from immediately behind their Audi startled him back to reality: his ingrained driving reflexes had slowed them to a stop at the intersection, but he'd just missed a clear opportunity to merge. And damned if he hadn't actually leaned in KITT's direction — only a couple of centimetres, but far enough that when he jerked back into a fully vertical position it felt like he'd dragged himself across almost a kilometre of empty space. He raised his left hand to the pissed-off looking older couple in the family sedan behind them and flashed a sheepish grin over his shoulder, then got his attention back on the road and slotted the Audi into the next gap in traffic. 

KITT's gaze on the left side of his face was almost palpable in its intensity, which did nothing whatsoever to ease his awareness of his own pulse pounding in all sorts of inconvenient places. He'd also completely lost track of his train of thought, and although his mind was racing in search of a graceful way to recover the lost ground all he could seem to do was keep his eyes on the road ahead and hope, impossible as that wish might be, that KITT hadn't noticed — or would just let the subject drop. 

"So," KITT said at last shortly after Jack had turned them onto Newport Road heading west, in an almost completely inscrutable tone of voice, "you think I'm vain." 

 _Said?_ More like _accused_ , and when Jack opened his mouth the first thing that come out was a scoffing defensive counterstrike: "Yeah, like you can deny it!" 

"You'll pardon me if I find that a little rich," KITT sniffed, "coming from you." Then, before Jack could do more than draw breath for a nastier retort, he continued: "However, I'm not saying that it's necessarily a _bad_ thing. Vanity is only a shortcoming if it's based on false assumptions about one's prowess and competence — and you're one of the most proficient and competent men it's ever been my pleasure to encounter."

Well, there was a turn Jack hadn't expected. "That's…" He tried to cover the deep irrational glow of  pleasure at such a strange compliment with a gruffer intonation. "Thanks." 

"It's scarcely necessary to thank me for speaking the truth." KITT sounded as stern as a New England schoolmaster now, but there was also a hint of — uncertainty? Yes, however slight. "I can only hope that you share a similar opinion regarding my own standard of performance."

Damn it — the sight, or even the sound, of that occasional trace of vulnerability from one so resolutely self-assured never failed to prompt a swell of protective emotion in Jack's breast, an urge to wrap KITT up in his arms and whisper reassurances ardent enough to quell all doubts. He kept his hands firmly on the wheel, but he couldn't quite keep the velvet glide out of his voice: "I told you once before — you're always exactly what I need."  

"Forty-three days, nineteen hours, eight minutes and twenty-two seconds ago," KITT supplied, looking ahead toward the parkland rapidly coming up on both sides of the road. "That's plenty of time to have undergone a change of opinion." 

Jack stiffened his shoulders inside the protective camouflage of his coat. No, _no_ velvet! Velvet was sensual, and sensual was definitely _not_ the way this evening was going to go. Time to change the subject with an appropriately cheeky grin: "So! Where'd this _Tell me about this thing you Earth men call kissing_ idea of yours come from, anyway?" 

"Actually, you set it in motion yourself." A sidelong glance, narrow as a knife's blade between the ribs, as sharp as a slightly wounded tone: "Or have you forgotten?" 

Which was a problem, because Jack most certainly had _not_ forgotten: either a second-long touch of lips to lips in the burned-out ruin of the Hub's interrogation room, or a much more recent rainy spring night a little over a month ago, when he'd grabbed the lapels of KITT's coat to shove the android against the wall and kissed him until neither of them could breathe. He tightened his grip on the steering wheel and kept his gaze firmly oriented straight ahead while he searched for an appropriate arrangement of words to diffuse this situation. "Look, I'm sorry about —" 

But KITT shook his head. "There was no need to apologize then, and there's no need to apologize now, so long after the fact. I certainly can't blame you for being under the influence of an alien psychotropic agent you weren't even aware was a factor."

"It was inappropriate," Jack stated curtly, which was the truth he wanted if not the truth he felt in his blood and his bones. 

"It was also…" A thoughtful pause, as if the android was searching for precisely the right words himself. "Certainly not unpleasant." 

 _Wow, damn me with more faint praise, why don't you!_ He couldn't suppress a wince. "Thanks. I think." 

"Don't get me wrong," KITT continued earnestly, turning his full attention in Jack's direction again. "You've kissed me twice, and both occasions were — well, frankly quite enlightening. The first episode alerted me to your sexual interest in this body, and the second episode activated a programming module I hadn't been aware of previously. When you —" 

"Wait a minute!" No, _no_ , full stop and — "Back up — since when have I ever looked at you — 'that way'?" 

"Within the first ten minutes after we'd met." He could feel KITT's gaze on his profile, disarmingly direct although the tone of voice accompanying it was matter-of-fact. "In fact, you looked at me 'that way' just now, less than five minutes ago. I only realized the significance of your body language and metabolic signals after you took the step of kissing me following my resurrection, although of course as soon as I saw how you related to the other —" 

Time to nip this in the bud before it got even more uncomfortably close to where Jack really lived. "Oh, come on!" He put on his best dismissive smirk and glanced away toward the tree line on his right. "Speaking of vanity…" 

"Captain," KITT said patiently, "need I remind you that I can monitor the blood flow distribution to all parts of your body, as well as other metabolic markers such as skin temperature, pheromonal output, breathing and heart rates? Not to mention the fact that your pupils are over-dilated by seventeen percent given current ambient light conditions?" 

Which stopped Jack's attempted con in its tracks, because yeah, of _course_ KITT was a walking medical scanner. So much for bluffing. He hazarded a glance to his left and found the android quietly studying him, its eyes cycling in a way that telegraphed interest — but certainly not agitation, which was cause for cautious optimism. "And… that doesn't bother you?" 

"I've always possessed a beautiful physical form," KITT said simply, crossing his long legs at the knee and folding both black-gloved hands neatly atop his left thigh. "You certainly can't be blamed for noticing. And as I was about to say before I was interrupted," a pointed glance, "I quickly discovered that in your case a high degree of sexual responsiveness to a wide variety of stimuli is your default setting. Bearing that in mind, I've never taken your reflexive reactions personally." 

"That's…" Could it be? Was the way out of the trap really that obvious? He pasted on a leer that was only half feigned. "Good. Really good! Because, well, you know me — if it's got a hole, I'm ready to roll!" 

KITT surprised him with a low laugh, sharp-edged and musical, as he turned his gaze towards the woodland rushing past. "Oh, believe me, Captain — I'm _well_ aware. Michael was of a similar temperament when it came to women. You simply apply the principle of promiscuity to a wider field of variables." 

Could the android perceive this rush of relief too, flooding through every nerve in his body? In any case, Jack was grateful that KITT was looking away from him. "Glad to see we're on the same page." 

KITT nodded, still scanning the beautiful old forest beyond the car's cabin. "Your behaviour has, however… well, sensitized me, I suppose. I must admit that my intellectual interest in compiling data on human sexual behaviour became somewhat less academic from the night of April 14th onward. Your actions awakened me to an entirely new perspective, so in a way, I suppose I owe you a debt of gratitude." 

 _A debt you'll never be able to repay the way I want you to_ , Jack thought, meanly and with far too much ache for his own good, because — no, there was so much more than anger there, so much more than frustration. There was a need that remained pure, a tenderness that never faltered, no matter how many knots this situation tied itself up in. "KITT…. am I supposed to be your wingman tonight?" 

KITT smiled as if to himself. "I'm hoping you'll be able to assist me in all sorts of useful ways." 

"Because —" _Oh, I could assist you, all right. Owen was right about one thing: I could administer a crash course in seduction that would have you on your knees at my feet, begging for more…_ "I mean, it's not that I've got a problem with that. It would just be helpful to know up front." 

"You've already taught me so much, Captain." This time the smile he slid across the small distance separating them was nearly kind. "If you'll be so good as to answer my questions and provide the occasional practical demonstration of suitable forms of social interaction for the sorts of venues you'll be taking me to, I'll consider myself well satisfied." 

 _He can't have meant that the way it sounded. Can he even —?_ But of course, KITT could: Tosh and Owen's initial analysis of this android body had clearly determined that it was anatomically correct to its human model, and that it possessed dense sensor nets in areas associated with erogenous reactivity. When he'd kissed KITT in the alleyway, KITT had clearly felt it — and more importantly, had obviously liked it. There was no reason to doubt that other types of sexual contact would produce equally gratifying responses… 

 _When I kissed him in the Hub, he started to get an erection —_  

… which was the _last_ thing Jack could afford to think about right now, so he locked that enticing image down tight — 

_As tight as I'd like to lock_ **_him_ ** _down, so he'd have to take whatever I gave him, no matter how beautifully he pleaded for more, harder, faster —_

And damn, wasn't _that_ an impossible image to get out of his head? Yet somehow it was even harder to ignore the quality of KITT's silent smile, as if he knew exactly what was going on — and as if he pitied anyone with a body subject to such merely organic frailties. 

Pity, plus academic interest. That was all it could ever amount to, really, so Jack shut his mouth and let the beauty of the late spring evening's sunset through the awakening trees speak for itself.


	7. The Gatekeepers Issue a Challenge

It wasn't until they'd parked the cabriolet on a side street just off St. Mary — a fair way from the club district, because even at 8:25 PM on a mid-May evening the area was already packed with cars — and were walking briskly side-by-side toward the first location Jack had picked for KITT's education in the ways of the flesh, that Jack felt compelled to point out: "It was three times, actually." 

Which earned him a surprised glance through wrap-around dark mirrored glasses. "I beg your pardon?" 

"I kissed you three times." In response to the quizzical tilt of KITT's head, he elaborated: "Once in the Hub, once in the alley, and once in the woods — forty-three days, nineteen hours, and however many minutes ago." 

"Sixteen minutes and thirty-four seconds," KITT automatically corrected. "I didn't count that particular incident." 

Jack stuck his hands into his greatcoat's pockets, threw his head back, and drew a deep breath of the mild spring air, savouring the potent rush of just being alive: no matter how many turns of the seasons he lived through, this time of year never failed to make him feel good — and the presence of such blade-slim beauty beside him, if not exactly _with_ him, only enhanced the experience. "Really?" KITT nodded. "Any particular reason why you left it out of the total?"

"Was it a kiss of passion?" KITT countered. 

He only had to consider the question for a couple of seconds, recalling how he'd knelt on the forest floor and cradled the traumatized android against him while KITT shivered in the aftermath of sharing a N'sar'in soldier's extremely painful death — and how he'd pressed his lips to KITT's cheekbone, feeling the tingle of reaction where skin met skin and knowing he'd dared too much. Had there been passion in it? Yes, always burning beneath, but the caress had been prompted more by tenderness, and by the desire to provide comfort. "Not exactly." 

KITT nodded once, as if to say _Well then, that's that!_ And Jack had to concede that maybe he had a point… and that on the other hand he'd completely missed it, because all three kisses lay on the same emotional continuum, even if that piece of data could never safely be revealed. "Is that particular form of physical interaction more common in your native culture than it is here?" 

Questions about his past were never something that Jack welcomed, even if he was in chemically induced love with the source. He concealed his wariness behind a gay smile. "Starting with the questions a little early, aren't you? We're not even at the first club yet!" 

"It's never too early to start learning," KITT retorted. "And that wasn't exactly an answer." 

They emerged onto St. Mary, which was lightly populated with pedestrians under trees well budded out, and Jack automatically scanned the street scene for any sign of danger as he replied: "You're right, it wasn't — because I'm not the subject of tonight's lesson." 

KITT was conducting a similar scan, at complementary angles to Jack's sweep. "Are you telling me that inquiries along those lines are completely off-limits?" 

"Yes," and he couldn't keep a certain curtness out of his voice, because even though every instinct was telling him that this was someone he could confide in, someone he could trust — even if he _wanted_ to unburden some of the deeper secrets his heart had been holding for so long — well, his instincts weren't exactly operating in the clear right now. He turned right, and KITT followed on his left, keeping a constant distance of no more than eighteen centimetres between their shoulders.  

"How unfortunate," KITT remarked, even as he inclined his head in acquiescence. "Your perspective on interpersonal relationships so clearly differs from that of humans from this century — I was hoping I could use it as a comparative benchmark."

Jack had to laugh at that, a touch bitterly, because oh Goddess, this poor innocent creature had _no idea_ — about so many things. "Believe me, you'll find plenty to compare and contrast once I get you into the thick of things." 

KITT cocked his head again. "Meaning…?" 

This time his smile was more sincere. He extracted his hands from his pockets and raised them front of his chest, palms out, then spread them in a gesture indicating explosions and amazement. "Words alone cannot describe the wonders of human courtship rituals! You're just gonna have to see it for yourself." 

"If you say so," KITT murmured, but he sounded dubious.

Jack shook his head, the smile lingering. "I say so — and like everybody else told you, I'm the expert." 

"Indeed." He looked up at Jack through lowered eyelids, Jack knew it even with the dark glasses in place, and now he was clearly thoughtful. "Is there any other subject I'm not allowed to bring up?" 

Ah, so that was it — of course this wasn't about curiosity concerning Jack's own life at all, it was simply about locking down as many perspectives as possible to maximize KITT's odds of correctly interpreting the data. Jack deliberately did not let himself be disappointed by that realization. "If I think of anything, you'll be the first to know. Okay, here we are — I know these guys, let _me_ do the talking…" 

There was no lineup yet in front of The Kit-Kat Club, so Jack was able to lead KITT right up to the two doormen keeping watch at the glass-and-brass double doors: one ghost-pale and one mahogany dark, both dressed in immaculate charcoal grey three-piece suits and both built like brick shithouses. Jack flashed his most winning smile up — way up — at them, and greeted them cheerfully: "Hey, Vince! Geordi! How's it hanging, big guys!" 

Vince, as was his habit, just glowered with his cold green eyes. Geordi was the one who nodded pleasantly and answered in a surprisingly melodic voice tinged with a Scouse accent: "Hey there, Jack — low and loose, same as usual." His gaze was on KITT though, and he nodded in that direction. "Who's your friend, then?" 

Jack looked round, as if surprised to find a guy with lines of glowing blue inscribed on neck and jawline standing at his side. "Who, him? C'mon, you must have seen the article in the _Echo_ last month — with the pictures? No? This is KITT — he works with me at…" A more sheepish smile this time, a touch conspiratorial. "Well, you know we don't talk about —" 

Vince interrupted with an East London growl: " _What_ is he?" 

"An android from the twenty-third century," Jack replied without missing a beat. 

Vince's eyes narrowed dangerously at KITT, who met his gaze squarely. "No scales or feathers under there, i'nit?" 

"Last time you came by with someone strange," Geordi elaborated, "we were cleaning up pinfeathers for a week after."

Jack laughed, a blatant scoff. "Who, the Kaldouran? That was from an entirely different dimension!" 

"I assure you I'm fully housebroken," KITT interjected drily, because of course it was too much to ask for him to keep his pretty mouth shut when someone was calling his suitability into question. "No scales, no feathers, and I don't even shed body hair. After we've left, no test on Earth will be able to tell you that I was ever here." 

"Assuming you get in," Geordi noted. 

KITT nodded, smiling thinly. "Assuming." 

Geordi nodded slowly, his gaze shifting past their small group, and Jack turned to follow his line of sight — straight to a group of four Goth-styled young women with various tattoos and piercings, stopped on the sidewalk across the street and about a quarter block up. Four women who were staring back and pointing and talking amongst themselves, clearly very interested in what they were seeing. The shortest and plumpest one ran her forefinger along her jawline, still intently gazing, and spoke decisively to the others, prompting the entire group to burst out in giggles that were clearly coy rather than derisive, followed by more animated conversation. They all set off toward the nearest crosswalk, still chattering and casting frequent glances back toward the front of The Kit-Kat Club, and Jack was completely unsurprised when they made a beeline in that direction as soon as they were on the right side of the street. 

Triumphant, he turned his attention back to the club's doormen and saw that the right corner of Geordi's full-lipped mouth had quirked upward. The darker bouncer exchanged a glance with Vince, who dipped his chin a quarter inch in a sketch of a nod and unhooked the velvet rope. "Go on, then," Geordi said, and shook his head when Jack reached for his wallet. "No cover charge." 

"Well," Jack grinned, "that's mighty neighbourly of you boys," and laid his hand on the small of KITT's back through his thin leather jacket to usher him inside. 

For his part, KITT nodded to both doormen as he passed and politely said, "Thank you." Geordi returned the nod silently while Vince simply glared, and just before the venue's doors closed behind them Jack could clearly hear the high-pitched animated voices of the gaggle of girls who'd spotted KITT from across the street and decided to check him out — four more patrons for The Kit-Kat Club, who would doubtless wind up paying the full admission fee. 

"Looks like you're going to be a hit with the body modification crowd," he remarked as they headed through the empty coat check lounge, letting his hand linger on KITT's spine because really, who did it hurt? 

KITT glanced up at him curiously. "Is that what you think that was about?" 

The honest lack of guile made Jack smile fondly. For a heartbeat the urge to slip his hand the rest of the way around that slender waist and pull KITT as close as possible was nearly overwhelming; he took the hint, removing his hand and withdrawing to a safer distance — almost a full forearm's length, although he managed to keep his tone of voice light as he did so: "I guarantee it." 

"So, you believe that people will assume my markings are —" And then he stopped in his tracks, just inside the open doorway leading into the club proper, with a tiny crease of a frown appearing between his eyebrows as he scanned the venue. "Oh… how disappointing." 

[TO BE CONTINUED]


End file.
